


Flashpoint

by Devon_King



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Teacher-Student Relationship, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devon_King/pseuds/Devon_King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set within the day that was Season 4, Episode 19: Sympathy for the De Vil. For the purposes of our tale, Cruella's kidnapping of Henry occurs later in the day, hours after Emma offers Regina protection on her trip to New York to warn Robin Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
[Flashpoint](http://devonking.deviantart.com/art/Flashpoint-532006254) by [DevonKing](http://devonking.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)

“Again,” the blonde stated firmly as she peered in the direction of the scraggly shoreline.

She hadn’t even looked at her pupil after this volley. However, that didn’t keep her from being acutely aware of the withering glare that had surely flickered toward her.

Here, near the edge of the stream, the walls of the ravine rose high around them. The riverbank on the opposite side provided an excellent backdrop for their activity.

A long moment passed. The speaker in the gray jacket busied her hands and began threading more shells into a clip, still not hazarding a glance at her student.

As her fingers nimbly snapped the ammunition into place, the magazine clicked in a smooth cadence. Somewhere along the way, this had become what shrinks liked to call an “overlearned behavior,” she mused as the spring in the device compressed under her ministrations.

She shivered slightly in the chilly air, her jacket being long on looks and short on protection from the elements.

Her mind drifted back to the countless hours spent tailing whichever lowlife had skipped and how sharply the metallic had snaps reverberated in her little Volkswagen. Over and over, as her eyes swept the street for a sign of her fugitive, her thumb would free the shells into her upturned baseball cap.

Then she made a game out of reloading the device by touch alone. Green eyes busy evaluating each passerby at the location she had honed in upon.

Of course, the game had only developed after she had been able to afford a third clip for her 9mm.

One loaded, the second locked and the third because life sure as hell wasn’t fair.

And I thought life in Boston was nuts, she chuckled softly with a shake of her head as she completed her task smoothly.

Gravel crunched abruptly to her left. It sounded if someone’s stance had shifted abruptly, or perhaps they had stomped a foot…?

Shit.

The former bounty hunter frowned, sighed and squared her shoulders toward her companion.

The fair-haired woman raised her free hand as if to ward off an attack. “Before you even start…” she began, “… no, I’m not laughing at you.”

It was just as she had thought, her student had now turned all her attention toward the teacher.

Standing a scant three strides away, the raven-haired woman in the camel-colored coat was studying her intently.

Dark eyes radiated something that hinted as defiance or perhaps an unspoken accusation, but the tilt of her chin indicated she was evaluating the sincerity of the other woman’s statement.

The blonde met her gaze and gave her head a quick shake, the tiniest hint of an apologetic smile fading quickly as the chilly wind whipped her hair across her face.

“Honest,” she intoned as she quickly swept the offending locks behind her ear before gesturing toward the opposite bank. “Any time you feel ready…” she sniffed and stuck her hands back in the pockets of her jacket.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you insane?”

Emma pursed her lips in thought and wondered if that was a headache forming behind her right eye.

Mayor Mills shook her head and switched the gun into her opposite hand. It lay flat on her palm and she lifted it up as if offering it back to its owner.

“This, this… thing is nothing like using magic,” she nearly spat out the phrase, as if the mere notion curdled her stomach.

Oh, yeah, thought the sheriff as she pinched the bridge of her nose. All systems were go for a tension headache. And things had been going so well up until now.

She smiled to herself. At least, it had been going pretty well for us, she thought dryly. Her green eyes swept over the area they occupied and she drew a deep breath. 

She stepped closer to the woman and retrieved her gun. 

Meanwhile, Regina crossed her arms and straightened her spine. The woman had irritatingly good posture even in repose. To Emma’s mind, it looked exhausting.

The mayor was an expert at throwing up barriers. Her patented mix of haughty arrogance and scathing remarks was perfect for masterfully isolating herself and keeping everyone else at a manageable distance .

There were moments – like this one – when Emma would swear she could see Storybrooke’s mayor literally fade from sight as the mental armor of the Evil Queen fell into place erasing any sign of fear, weakness or indecision.

When that happened, every citizen in the town braced for the worst or ran for the exits.

The sheriff took a different tactic entirely. Whenever that darkness swept over the mayor, Emma found courage borne of insight and similarity to step directly into the storm with her.

Not that Regina ever made it easy. In truth, nothing about the brunette was simple. Henry’s birth mom had endured every oath and rebuke imaginable from the mayor who refused to see herself as anything other than a villain.

And as a villain -- she judged herself unworthy of friendship, happiness or love.

Emma leveled a calm and steady gaze on the older woman. Regina remained regally still, the only movement the flutter of her dark bangs against her forehead, no doubt waiting to rebuff whatever tactic the sheriff employed next.

Though Storybrooke’s present day Mayor Mills bore little resemblance to the fabled Evil Queen of time’s past, she did at least retain her devilish wit.

She had turned using disparaging names for Emma's parents into a bit of an art form. Emma did concede that the mayor did dial things back a bit when Henry was present... but not by much.  

The sheriff was constantly amazed at the ways the mayor would imply or assert that Emma’s parents were idiots.

"Of course I'll ring Snow before I drop Henry off at the apartment," Regina had commented casually. The blonde recalled Regina holding up her blackberry as proof that she had Snow's cell number, plainly marked "IDIOT 1-MM" in the phonebook.

The sheriff thought better of asking if anyone had the designation "IDIOT 2," as she wasn't really sure she wanted to know that answer.

It was such classic Madame Mayor behavior, she didn’t even have actually utter the words anymore, it simply bled through in eye-rolls or grimaces.

As stormy as their odd relationship got, Henry’s Moms did not give up on one another. The tricky part is being nimble enough to dodge the lightning strikes, Emma mused ruefully.

Once more into the fray, she thought as she raised her chin determinedly.

“What is it you are always telling me about magic?” she asked the brunette. The mayor frowned.

Emma didn’t wait for an answer. “That its about emotion and instinct. That I won’t get the right outcome if I over think it,” she declared.

A slow smile crept across the blonde’s face. Keeping her eyes locked with the mayor’s, she extended her right arm toward the target across the river and pulled the trigger in rapid succession.

The sheriff was sure anyone else would have jumped out of their skin, but all that moved about implacable Mayor Mills was a subtle twist of her lips into a smirk.

A long second later, curiosity won out and Regina turned toward the silhouette, her eyes tracking over the slightly battered target.

“Am I supposed to see where you hit it?” she squinted. “Pretty sure I can claim all those bullet holes…”

“Most of them, yes.” The sheriff popped the empty magazine free of the weapon. She gave the target a quick glance. “You’re becoming a regular Annie Oakley.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed a bit, recognizing Emma’s candor couched as it was in a dose of smartass.

“So, Miss Swan, your point would be…?”

“That, until I fired, Mr. Target over there was missing eyes and a nose,” the blonde responded brightly. She held the weapon up and depressed the release with a flourish, the slide falling back into place with a sturdy click.

“… and now, he’s not,” she grinned.

* * *

 

... to be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Slow, steady claps echoed in the ravine.

The angle of the mayor’s brows hinted at an instant of surprise as she thumped her gloved hands together in applause. “I’m impressed,” she admitted as she peeked beneath the edge of her glove to frown at the timepiece on her thin wrist.

Regina raised her deep brown eyes back up and Emma could see conflicting emotions behind the woman’s otherwise cool demeanor.

The mayor made a waving motion with her hand, “… and this feels like a waste of your time,” she sighed in resignation.

“Regina…?” Emma’s green eyes widened as the brunette closed the distance between them. The former bounty hunter was good at reading people. She even thought she had a handle on the ‘many moods of the Evil Queen,’ but Regina was so damn good at projecting what she wanted people to see, it was hard to be certain.

“I appreciate this, Emma, I really do,” she asserted with smile that was somehow tinged with sadness. Now it was the blonde’s turn to frown, trying to discern what was happening.

The mayor’s eyes had a luster to them, her expression warm and reassuring as she spoke. “I can’t recall anyone ever genuinely caring about my safety, let alone actively trying to keep me alive,” she paused, her mouth curving again into a smile as she expressed her thought.

“… before Henry -- and you.”

Emma blinked. Regina had wrapped a hand around her arm, the sheriff felt the comforting touch just above her elbow.

“Thank you for trying, Miss Swan,” a gentle squeeze of fingertips punctuated the comment before melting away. Regina turned and moved toward the trail that led out of the ravine, moving purposefully for a quick exit.

The astonished sheriff shook her head. Okay, Emma, think -- what are you missing here? She hoisted up the back of her gray jacket and tucked the weapon into waistband of her jeans, feeling in snugly in place at the small of her back.

The brunette had nearly reached the trees. Pausing , she looked back, raked a hand through ebony locks  sweeping them away from her face. “I’ll call you from New York.”

For some reason, the sheriff felt an emotional punch in the gut. Right, that would be the world without magic.  

* * *

 

Emma’s savior senses were abuzz with unease and teetering on outright alarm. She raced across the rocky sandbar and thudded to a halt between the mayor and the path up the hillside.

The queen’s words had been stark, painfully honest and total testament to just how far her majesty had come from the woman she had been in the Enchanted Forest.

The Evil Queen had been a solitary, cold and suspicious ruler. Those around her, even her favorites or those she found most useful, were disposable. She had no attachments.

She relished her vendettas and terrorized her subjects.

She took what she wanted and feared nothing.

That person now only existed in storybooks. This was Regina.

Regina Mills, the spitfire with the fierce temper, wicked throaty laugh and unyielding devotion to those she loved.

The reluctant queen whose quest for redemption often led her to abandon her own well-being in the process.

Emma swallowed hard, remembering a conversation held over the trembling glow of the failsafe device, deep within the mines of Storybrooke.

            “Let me die as Regina.”

A shiver that wasn’t related to the chilly Maine weather rang through her system. The former foster child understood the mayor for reasons unfathomable to the fairy-tale denizens of their coastal community.

Only she and Regina knew how possible it was to be wholly misunderstood, terrorized and mistreated by the very people who swore they were doing it for your best interest.

They alone understood that the most cold-blooded and vicious acts could spring from the hands of the ones who called themselves mother, father or “family.”

Emma’s fingertips unconsciously tugged at the hem of her own sleeves, snugging them down across her hands. The habit was from long ago. Teenage Emma had learned to keep her mouth shut and her bruises covered.

Most scars would heal, but the ones that crisscrossed a heart, now those cut across time and memory and would flare up painfully at unexpected times. Emma knew that ache and felt assured that Regina suffered from the same affliction.

Both women had trusted freely in their pasts only to be used and discarded. Perhaps the cruelest and most perverse lesson imparted by the villains they had known was that trust and faith in others led to pain and abandonment.

The hopelessness of knowing that no matter how hard you worked, how smart you were, how well behaved – it was never enough to win favor.

It was never enough for you to be shown kindness or affection.

You were nothing. No one would hear you or help you. Good luck making it on your own. Emma could still hear her own ghosts taunting and slashing at her confidence. Why should she expect the mayor to feel differently?

Regina was staring at her now, with a mix of surprise and annoyance that signaled she expected an explanation.

The sheriff cocked her head to the side, meeting her friend’s challenge with the cockiest expression she could muster. She understood the impulse to run – she had honed it to perfection over the years.

She was also conscious how many fears were involved in the vulnerability of admitting to someone you need help -- and how deeply wounding the pain was if you were rejected.

No way, Regina. I don’t give up that easily and neither do you, she decided. Inside the sheriff, a spark of temper flared.

“Where do you think you are going? We aren’t finished here.” Regina opened her mouth to respond, but Emma didn't allow it.

“You once dropped a bridge out from under me to teach me magic. Do you remember that? Because I sure as hell do!” Her expressive voice raised in crescendo and she wondered when she had taken the step that put her nose-to-nose with the other woman.

In response, Regina folded her arms nonchalantly. For all intents and purposes, the woman might as well be waiting for a taxi. The mayor looked bored.

The blonde leaned in and dropped her voice to a near whisper. “You told me then you were disappointed because I wasn’t using my full potential. You were angry that I wouldn’t focus and try harder.”

Regina’s eyes hardened. Emma finally saw anger there to match her own. It was far from an ideal starting place but at least she had her attention.

She watched the brunette brace herself for battle. She anticipated scathing criticism and a litany of the many ways she fell short of expectations. Of course she would, as Cora’s daughter, it was all she had ever known.

It was not going to be what she heard today.

On whim, she grabbed the lapel of the mayor’s coat and held fast, the heel of her hand resting over the brunette’s heart. Sensing the coiled fury that was building there, Emma inclined her head even closer.

“Regina, you got this. I know it,” she said softly. The dangerous glint in the dark orbs before her wavered slightly.

The queen shook her head slowly and covered the hand at her collar with one of her own.

“Miss Swan,” she warned as her fingers worked to release Emma’s grip. Undeterred, the blonde used the connection between them to shake the woman as if to rouse her.

“Regina, please,” the savior entreated. “Let me help you.”

The mayor’s eyes were drifting closed now, lost behind sable lashes, her teeth bared as if she were in pain.

Emma’s breath caught, she hoped – hoped beyond imagining – that her simple kindness wasn’t so foreign to the soul before her that it… hurt?

Throughout her time in Storybrooke, Emma had heard hundreds of smug and hateful ‘Evil Queen’ comments from the townspeople. They brazenly used them as taunts and vicious reminders – trusting that Regina Mills’ promise to her son was strong enough to save them from her wrath in the modern world.

The queen weathered it all. The suspicions, the resentments and the outright hostility without a flinch, thereby lending credence to one of the most popular rumors – the bitch didn’t have a heart.

Idiots! Oh, there was that word! They all – and she sadly counted her parents in that mix -- had it so wrong!

Emma felt a sting behind her eyes. Regina wasn’t unfeeling -- she was all-feeling. The curse of the most resilient heart was to experience emotions deeply.

The mayor was no longer struggling to get free, instead, she held onto the blonde’s fist like an anchor. Regina’s head was bowed reverently over their clasped hands.

Both women’s hearts thudded in their chests. Emma acted on instinct, pulling the mayor into her. There was no resistance as the savior drew the queen into an embrace, the blonde settled her cheek upon the top of Regina’s head.

“You got this…” Emma rattled their joined hands again, now caught fast between them, “… just let me help,” she sniffled, a little embarrassed that her eyes felt full.

Okay, enough with the mush. Where did that come from? Get a grip, Swan, she admonished herself. Regina hadn’t moved.

The sheriff took a deep breath and exhaled, snickering softly. Would you get a load of us?

“So, how about we get you ready for anything that flying-monkey-loving bitch can dish out,” Emma smiled into Regina’s hair.

The remark earned a husky chuckle from the mayor, who with a final squeeze of the savior’s hand stepped back and away, disentangling them from one another.

Behind them, the stream filled the ravine with white noise. Whispers of water over stone, turbulent falls that swirled on the surface and lent no clue to the depths below. Regina looked anywhere but at the sheriff, she seemed to be fascinated by swirl of the stream beneath the bridge.

Emma studied the woman’s profile, reminding herself that though Regina was only a few years her senior – that, in fact, the young woman had existed through two lifetimes.

Alone.

When the brunette returned her attention to the sheriff, Emma confidently met her eyes with a cartoonishly exaggerated nod paired up with a devilish grin. Her golden curls bounced in an overly animated fashion in the sunlight.

So comical was the sight, that the startled brunette burst into laughter. The savior was delighted to see her goofiness had sparked the queen’s smile back to life.

And, there it was, Regina was thinking. The good news was she was smiling one of those precious unguarded grins.

“Do you promise?” the raven-haired beauty asked, a sinister lilt evident in her voice, and there was that full force dazzling smile.

“Do you trust me?” the blonde countered. Regina’s head nodded first, then Emma’s as they struck their pact silently.

As different as they were – for they were polar opposites on so many levels – there were moments like this where agreement once recognized was unshakable.

The sheriff extended her hand with a flourish, indicating their previous positions at the river’s edge.

“Let’s get to it,” said the mayor.

 

... to be continued.

_Comments are most truly appreciated, she said with a smile that she wished was half as captivating as those of Regina Mills._


End file.
